11.18.2014

When everything changes in an instant. A guest feature.

For me, the most valuable part of blogging has come from the ability to share personal experiences and stories with a wide audience. Being able to write candidly about issues I have faced and continue to face has brought a great deal of relief and comfort into my life. It has also given me invaluable connections to people who would not have found their way into my life otherwise.

Although we live in the highly-connected internet age, there are still many topics that remain taboo. We put so much of ourselves online and yet there are still things that we find are too difficult to share. But oftentimes it's these difficult stories that ought to be shared the most. They can help you to heal, and others to learn.

The following is the harrowing experience of my dear friend Courtney in regards to the devastating dog attack that her daughter Taylor suffered earlier this year. Both Courtney and her daughter were diagnosed with PTSD after the attack, and both are still coping with it every day. Here are the details of the day that they will never forget...

WARNING: Very graphic images behind the cut.

Taylor and Courtney a few months before the attack.

It seemed like such a typical
day. Nothing stood out as out of the ordinary. Nothing made me think I
should remember the way she smiled at me before she went out front to
play with her friend. Nothing made me think to memorize her face, her
wispy baby hairs that just barely covered her forehead, her soft
beautiful untouched skin. I didn't think to take just one more moment
to breathe in her sweet, unharmed, childish innocence. I didn't think
to give her one more kiss and tell her one more time how much I love
her. She just wanted to play outside with her friend. It was supposed
to be a typical day.

My
husband was serving in the Air Force and we lived in a small town about
10 minutes outside of the base my husband was stationed at. Our entire
neighborhood was inhabited by military families. Our house was
situated in the middle of a cul-de-sac and my daughters best friend just
happened to live right across the street. Taylor, my 7 year old at the
time, loved playing outside with her friend and enjoyed playing with
the other neighbor kids on our street. Most of the families on our
street had dogs and Taylor was familiar with all of them. We even have a
large dog, a newfoundland labrador mix that we adopted when my husband
was in Afghanistan. Taylor knew how to behave around all animals,
especially large breeds. She was gentle and loved our dog and the
neighbors dogs as well. At the time I had no idea that the great dane
down the street had lunged and barely missed biting one of the neighbor
boys just a couple months prior. Had I known that this dog was
aggressive, or even *could* be aggressive, I would have told Taylor to
stay away. I would have told her to be extra cautious and to just leave
that dog alone.

It
was unusually warm that day and Taylor was itching to play out front
with her friend. As soon as the neighbors car pulled into their
driveway she ran out the door as I quickly reminded her of the rules.
She was a pro at following the rules and I trusted that with the
neighbors watchful eyes, she would be ok to play in the yard while I
stayed inside to tend to her baby brother. I could see her and her
friend through our giant front window as they giggled and played games
in the yard. My 6 month old son was getting sleepy and ready for an
evening nap, so I sat down on the couch to nurse him and read a little.
As I nursed my son I could still see Taylor and her friend running
around. It wasn't unusual for Taylor to occasionally slip out of my
view for a few minutes. The house was quiet and it seemed like I hadn't
seen Taylor come back into my view for a little while. That was the
moment I remember thinking something wasn't right.

I
felt a little uneasy not being able to see Taylor. I slowly sat
forward to give myself a new angle to see the other side of the yard
through the window. It was in that exact moment I heard my neighbor
screaming for me to come quick. As I ran to the front door my neighbor
was opening it and telling me Taylor had been bitten by Dexter (the
other neighbors grate dane I talked about earlier). I remember my
neighbor grabbing my son from my arms as I raced to put my boots on. I
remember thinking to myself, "please God let it be her arm, her hand,
her leg, anything BUT her face or worse her throat." It's amazing how
just a few seconds can seem like hours and you have all the time in the
world to think the most absurd thoughts. I also thought in those few
seconds while I pleaded with God, that maybe she didn't get bit at all. Maybe my neighbor was frightened and over reacted. Maybe she just fell
and scraped her knee. I wanted so badly for those words "Dexter bit
Taylor" to be untrue, that when I finally saw her I couldn't believe
what my eyes were looking at.

As
I struggled getting my boots on Dexter's owner was quickly walking up
the front porch. I had the the front door open and half of my body
outside when I gazed upon my tiny, sweet, blonde haired Taylor cradled
in Dexter's owners arms. Taylor didn't make a sound. She was breathing
heavily and as I looked up at Dexter's owner I could see she was
covered in blood. More blood than could possibly come from a scraped
knee. My heart sank and as I reached for Taylor she rolled over
exposing her blood soaked face to me. Her eyes were darting around, not
connecting with anything, and she was mumbling incoherently. I looked
into Dexter's owners terrified eyes and exclaimed, "Dexter bit her?!"
She was shaking badly and I'm not sure if she was shaking from fear,
shock, or simply because Taylor was shaking. She looked at me and told
me, "Dexter just knocked Taylor over and she must have hit her head on
the ground." I knew deep down that couldn't possibly be what happened,
but my mind and body went into survival mode. I needed help for my
daughter and I needed it now.

I
cradled Taylor in my arms as my neighbor dialed 911. My neighbor had
gone outside to make the phone call and I never actually heard what she
said but, it has been recorded in the 911 logs that she did in fact
state the dog had bit Taylor. I called my husband who was on base at
work that evening and luckily one of our other neighbors was home from
work that night. He had ran across the street when he heard the dog
growl and followed me back inside the house after I had Taylor in my
arms. He had paper towels and was applying pressure to the wound on
Taylor's forehead while he talked to my husband about what had happened. He explained to my husband that Taylor was hurt very badly and he
needed to leave work immediately and meet us in the emergency room.The
only time I panicked was in those moments we were on the phone with my
husband. The kids had fallen and had bumps and bruises before and I
always handled everything on my own, but for whatever reason that night
hearing someone else say this is bad and you need to come home, sent
shivers down my spin. As soon as I hung up the phone with my husband I
slowly walked over to the couch so I could sit down and just hold Taylor
while we waited for the ambulance to arrive. It could not have been
more than 15 minutes while we waited, but during those 15 minutes Taylor
did not say one word. Her eyes were still darting around the room and
she was very quietly moaning and mumbling. In those 15 agonizing
minutes I thought my overwhelmingly intelligent and gifted daughter had
brain damage and would lose her right eye.

Taylor in the ambulance.

The
dog had bitten her just to the outside and above her right eye. As it
bit down it pulled her skin from her forehead down exposing her skull
and covering her eye. I could see part of her eye was still there,
however, I wasn't sure how much was still there. The paramedics arrived
and removed our makeshift paper towel bandages to see how badly her
face was damaged. They didn't say much to me other than ask if she lost
consciousness, which at the time, I had no idea. I told them I was not
outside with her when this happened, so I wasn't sure what exactly
happened. The police had arrived and were standing in the doorway
listening to what I was saying. The paramedics scooped Taylor out of my
arms and carefully carried her to the ambulance. I quickly made
arrangements with Taylor's friends parents to watch my other daughter
while I took my son with me to the hospital. The ambulance driver
hooked my sons car seat in as I climbed into the back of the ambulance. Taylor was trembling as I reached out for her hand and that was the
first time since I saw her that she spoke. She said she was scared and
didn't want the IV needle to poke her. The paramedics had wrapped her
head with thick gauze covering her forehead and her right eye. They
were the nicest men and gave her a little pink and purple lion for her
to cuddle, together they decided to name her lion Skittles.

After being cleaned up, before surgery.

The
ride to the emergency room only took about 5 minutes because we lived
in such a small town. Once we got to the ER they began to unwrap
Taylor's bandages and clean up her wound. They gave her pain meds and
she was finally speaking again. Although she was still having trouble
with putting together full sentences, at least she was talking. The
doctors took her to have a CT scan of her head to rule out any swelling
and bleeding in her brain. It was determined that she had a skull
fracture and she needed to be air lifted in a flight for life helicopter
to a bigger city with a trauma one hospital. While Taylor was having
her CT scan done my husband had finally arrived in the emergency room,
and we decided it would be best for our younger children if I gathered
our things and drove the 2 hours away to the bigger city and hospital. My husband would ride with Taylor in the helicopter. The flight for
life paramedics arrived and gave Taylor a small sedative because I had
told them she gets motion sick. They assured me Taylor would be alright
and this was the best decision of her. The medics strapped Taylor to
their bed that would fit inside the helicopter and I followed them out
holding Taylor's hand. I gave her a kiss and told her how much I love
her as they took her to the helipad. It was heart wrenching watching
that helicopter take off with my daughter in serious condition. I felt
helpless and afraid. I cried in the car clenching my son while we
watched my husband and daughter fly off into the distance.

Being bandaged for the helicopter ride.

Getting in the helicopter.

I
quickly returned home to gather our younger daughter, our overnight
bags, and some comfort items for Taylor. As I was getting ready to load
up the car and leave for my two hour drive my husband called to let me
know that they had arrived at the hospital and the surgeons were already
waiting for them to arrive. I had about five minutes to talk to Taylor
on the phone before they wheeled her into the operating room to close
her wound. It was around 10:00pm at this point and since I wasn't able
to be there for her surgery, and they were not sure how long her surgery
would take, we decided it would be best if I stayed home that night and
drove the two hours the next morning. It was nerve wracking waiting
for the phone call that Taylor was out of surgery and she was alright. Surgery lasted a little over two hours and it was about another 45
minutes after that before I was able to talk to her again. Taylor was
in good spirits and even though I could not be there, I am forever
grateful my husband was. To this day I still feel guilty that I was not
there for Taylor before and after her surgery, even though she says she
was happy to at least have her daddy there.

After surgery.

Taylor
ended up with close to a hundred stitches inside and out of her wound
to close the gap. We are lucky that we had the surgeons we had and they
did not have to use a skin graph to close her wound. Her wound was
about an inch wide and ran from the top of her forehead down and across
her eyebrow. Her eye was completely intact despite the dogs tooth
puncturing her skin about a 1/3 of an inch from her eye socket. The
skull fracture occurred when Taylor's skull forcefully hit the street
from the dog lunging so hard and fast at her. She had a serious
concussion that had lasting effects for about a month after the attack. She had trouble with her extensive vocabulary, forgetting what she was
talking about in the middle of a sentence, nausea, sensitivity to light,
and dizzy spells. We started Taylor in sand box therapy about a week
after the attack and she was diagnosed as having severe shock, PTSD, and
a severe anxiety disorder. Because Taylor immediately went into shock
when the dog lunged at her, to this day she does not remember what
exactly happened. The only thing Taylor remembers is petting the dog
and then "waking up in the ambulance", even though she never lost
consciousness.

We
learned from witnesses about 2 days after the attack that it was in
fact a dog bite and she did not simply fall over. The legal aftermath
of the attack has been a nightmare and we are still, 9 months later, in
the midst of a legal battle. Absolutely nothing happened to the dog
because the owners lied about what had happened and to this day, still
will not admit there is even a possibility their dog bit our daughter. Taylor is doing wonderful. Her wound is completely healed and her scar
is fading more and more everyday. My husband's enlistment came up with
the Air Force and we moved home to Colorado to be with our family and
friends. Taylor has never been happier and she is thriving in our new
home. We are truly blessed and lucky that our sweet Taylor is doing so
well. When I think back to that day, this attack could have been so
much worse. It was terrifying and horrible but, I'm grateful the dog
didn't get her eye or worse rip into her throat. There is beauty in the
aftermath of trauma and I find that beauty in my intelligent,
hilarious, loving, gorgeous daughter Taylor. She is the definition of
strength and courage and I am forever thankful for her life.

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About Me

Hi there! My name is Lauren and I'm just another mom and this is just another blog. I live in Littleton, Colorado with my wonderful husband Nate (N) and our "darling" daughter Reagan (R). This blog is focused on my ongoing health battles, but you can take a peek at my archives for home renovations, crafts, subscription box reviews, and you know, whatever.